by ML Guida
Balthazar had his sword pointing down and leaned on it like a cane. “I swear you’ll pay for that, bitch.”
Cupid stared at him. She could now see through what was inside him. He didn’t have a soul, but he actually did have feelings, feelings that she’d never thought he’d have. He wasn’t all evil. He actually had other feelings besides hate, anger, and resentment. Loneliness was hidden deep inside him, as if he was trying to deny it existed.
“You’re lonely?” she asked.
Above her, Arrow flapped his wings, his bow pointed at Balthazar. “How quaint. A lonely demon. Don’t you have any friends, Balthazar?”
He glared at Arrow then focused on Cupid. “You’re daft.” He panted. “I don’t need anyone.”
“That’s not true, Balthazar. I can see into you. You feel alone in hell and grow weary of all the evilness lurking there. You want something pure, just to experience it.”
“Cupid, he’s a demon,” Lethal wheezed, struggling to stand. “Don’t be sympathetic with him. He’ll use it against you.”
“Are you offering to warm my bed?” Balthazar drawled, flashing his gaze over her. “By all means, come with me.”
Instead of cowering, Cupid held her head up and met his lecherous gaze. She raised her palm. Power flowed through her, and a brilliant white light beamed out of her hand. “For trying to kill my mate, I leave you with your loneliness. Be gone, demon.”
Balthazar winced and put up his palms. “No!”
The light circled him, encasing him in a bubble.
He released a mournful howl, lonelier than any coyote’s song. If it had been any other demon, angel, or human, Cupid might have felt sorry for him, but he’d tried to kill the man she loved.
The bubble popped, and Balthazar vanished.
Cupid bent and helped Lethal stand.
He wobbled and leaned heavily against her. “Did you kill him?” Astonishment and pride lingered in his voice.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Arrow landed next to them.
Lethal scowled at his brother. “Little late, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” Arrow said, as he looped his brother’s arm around his shoulder. “Only found out about the bow and your little mate’s power.”
Cupid frowned. “How? I didn’t even know I possessed it.”
“Your sister knew about the bow, and I sneaked into Gabriel’s library and found his journal. You’re a very powerful empath. He knew what ability you possessed. It was hidden and wouldn’t be released until someone you loved was truly in danger.”
An empath? She looked at Arrow, and surprisingly, she could see behind his facade of anger and rigidness. It hid what was buried deep inside him, a sadness so deep it made her want to weep. His missions had scarred him, stripping him of any happiness. He wasn’t going dark. He was withdrawing into himself, trying not to go into deep despair. He gave her a hard look, and she avoided his gaze. He might be sad, but it wouldn’t be something that he wanted broadcasted on the angel network.
“We’ve got to get him out of here,” she said.
“The pond.” Lethal managed to utter. “Take me there.” His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned his head on Arrow’s shoulder. He released a low moan.
Fear cooled her blood. She put her hand on his forehead, and it was warm. His ragged breath was too shallow. He was alive, but not for long. A tremor raced up her arm. Cupid could see into Lethal’s soul. It was overwhelming. Tears formed in her eyes, and her beating heart tripled in size. Unconditional love for her burned inside him. It was humbling, something she’d never thought she deserved.
Arrow shook his head. “What’s he babbling about? We need to get him to Raphael before it’s too late.”
“We’re mated, Arrow. Only I can heal him. You know that.”
He muttered something under his breath that Cupid couldn’t make out, but she thought she heard, “he’s dead.” His lack of faith was overwhelming. No wonder he’d retreated deep within himself.
Chapter Eight
Arrow tossed his brother over his shoulder. “Are you sure about this? He’s badly wounded.”
Blood dripped down Lethal’s shoulder, mixing into his hair. He was limp, and his arms hung down like loose vines. She strained to hear his breath, but it was faint, too faint. This had to work. She couldn’t lose him. Not now.
“You heard him.” Cupid met his anxious gaze. “He has faith in me.” She hoped she sounded braver than the doubt clouding her mind. What if she was wrong? Arrow was right. If this proved false, Lethal would die. A deep emptiness swelled in her heart at the thought of losing her brave angel.
She looked around at the disarray of the gym. “What about the humans? We can’t let Balthazar and his minions take their wrath out on them.”
“They won’t. I’ll return.” His eyes darkened. “I’ll bring reinforcements.”
She touched his arm. “Don’t wait too long.”
A metal door swung open and slammed against the wall. Cupid jumped. She held her breath, waiting for Balthazar to reappear, but she could only make out teenagers huddled together, including Kristyn and Bobby. A soft breeze blew the torn crepe paper across the blood-splattered gym floor, and the last remaining decorations floated down like feathers. Goosebumps broke out on Cupid’s arms.
“I don’t think I have to worry about it.”
Michael appeared, his large frame filling the doorway. He clutched his sword, Excalibur. He scanned the gym, and then focused on them. “Get him out of here. It’s not finished yet. We will take care of it.”
Four more Angels of Death appeared, swords drawn, including the brothers Scythe and Blade. These were warriors, men she wasn’t familiar with and didn’t want to know about. Fighting demons were not her style. Cupid was definitely out of her league, regardless of her new power.
As if reading her mind, Scythe smiled. With his good looks, he put most movie stars to shame. “You need to heal our brother as only an angel-mate can.”
Warmth flared on Cupid’s cheeks. Sex was definitely the key to healing.
“I suggest you leave,” he said.
“Follow me.” Arrow flew into the air.
Cupid didn’t hesitate and followed.
Arrow glanced over his shoulder. “Show me where you want to go.”
She didn’t want to be in front; she wanted to be in back to make sure Lethal was alive, but Arrow didn’t know the way. Her wings flapping faster than a humming bird’s, she flew like she’d never flown before. Heavy rain clouds wet her face and dress, making it cling to her body. The smell of rain was one of her favorite scents, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was saving Lethal.
She glanced over her shoulder. Arrow never faltered even with the weight of his brother on his back. The clouds cleared, replaced by a zillion stars. She’d never thought it took so long to travel from heaven to Earth, but now, it was as if they were moving in slow motion.
Lethal groaned.
Arrow and Cupid looked at each other. Not a good sign.
“Where is this damn pond?” Arrow growled.
“We’re almost there.”
The stars and black sky faded. They’d passed through the barrier between heaven and Earth. The pearly gates swung open, and they rushed through, nearly knocking over the startled guards. The palace turret’s peeked through the moving white clouds. It was wash day in heaven, and God planned to wash away the unpleasant memories of his beloved here in his domain. Usually, she’d dance in the rain, but now, the weather was somber as teary-eyed as she was.
Lush trees swayed below, leading to her pond. She motioned to Arrow. “Follow me.”
Blood ran down his arm, but it wasn’t his. It was Lethal’s. She wanted to cry out for Raphael, but he couldn’t help. Love was the greatest weapon of all and angels were to trust in it, even if it looked like all hope was lost.
The roar of the waterfall was music to her heart. Birds scattered as she burst through
the tree branches and landed on the ledge overlooking the pool where Lethal had stripped and claimed her. Arrow landed next to her and carefully laid his brother on the rock. His clothes were spotted with splatters of blood. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“Yes.” Sweet Lord, she hoped she could.
He put his palm over Lethal’s mouth. “He’s barely breathing. Why couldn’t you have found a place on Earth?”
She stiffened but tried to ignore the accusatory “it’s your fault if he dies” tone. Arrow was worried about his brother.
Trying not to sound defensive, she said, “Because, here, no demons can attack him.”
He clasped her arm. “If you can’t heal him, promise me, you’ll contact Raphael.”
She patted his arm but couldn’t stop her hand from shaking. “I promise.”
“I’ve got to go and help Michael.” Arrow unfurled his wings. “Don’t wait too long. If he dies, I’ll hold you responsible.” He soared into the gray clouds and disappeared.
Cupid shuddered. Having Arrow as an enemy would mean that for the end of her days she’d be looking over her shoulder to make sure she wouldn’t have an arrow embedded in her back.
She knelt next to Lethal and pushed his plastered hair out of his ashen face. “Lethal, can you hear me?”
He didn’t move or answer and only exhaled a shaky breath. Not a good sign. The poison from the hellish sword must be getting stronger. She ripped a strip off her gown and dipped it into the cool pond, then wiped his hot face. “Please, Lethal, hear my voice. Come back to me.”
He parted his bruised lips as if to speak, but only a slight gasp escaped them.
She pressed his hair back and kissed him on the lips, hoping she didn’t hurt him. “I love you. Can you hear me?”
“Yes. Kiss me more.”
She jerked up. His eyes were still closed. Was she imagining it, or had he spoken?
“Lethal?”
She was met with a disappointing silence. Scythe had said she must heal him the angel way, which was mind-blowing sex. But Lethal was hurt so badly it could kill him. She took a deep breath.
Start slow.
Lethal always dressed like he was going to the Academy Awards, and now, with his ripped and bloodied suit, he was dressed as a Walking Dead refugee. She could at least get him out of his ruined clothes. But it wouldn’t be easy. He was a tall and powerful man.
She carefully tugged his jacket down his left arm, which wasn’t hurt. She bit her lip. His right arm was so bloody and the cut on his shoulder so deep—what if she hurt him?
He had said to kiss him more. Maybe it would help. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Nothing happened. She ripped his shirt in half, and tears blurred her vision. Black and blue bruises and a long cut marred his magnificent torso. She wiped her wet cheeks and ignored the trepidation pounding into her heart. She ripped another piece of her gown, then dipped it into the pond. Her hand shaking, she dabbed at the dried blood on his chest. The beating of his heart was weak against her fingertips and needing to know he’d survive, she pressed her palm against his warm skin. He was still all muscle, hard, and sculpted, and as she moved the wet rag across his flesh, she felt a shiver race through his ravaged body.
He groaned.
She jerked her hand away. “I’m sorry.”
He moved his hand and bunched her dress. His mouth opened, but instead of saying anything, he gasped. His grip tightened, and he said something.
“I can’t hear you.” She pressed her ear to his mouth. “Say it again.”
“Draw on your power.” His voice was weak, like a dying man’s.
She couldn’t believe the faith he had in her. It was humbling, but he was wrong on this. Her power didn’t include healing. She didn’t trust herself, but she trusted him.
Not sure what she was doing, she sat back and clasped his limp hand. She closed her eyes, took a calming breath, and concentrated. Her heart beat stronger, blood surging through her. Shivers swept over her. Love like she’d never experienced before swelled inside her—all for Lethal. It was pure, strong, and powerful. She arched her back, and her whole body shook. Tingles shot down her arm, and she gripped Lethal’s hand tighter as her power swept into him. A warm, white light emitted around them like a fluffy cloud.
His weak hand grew stronger, and he squeezed her fingers. She stopped trembling and collapsed. The bruises on his face and torso had faded, but not healed. She frowned. The ugly cut on his shoulder oozed with puss and she wrinkled her nose. Her power had done little to heal him.
“I don’t think I can do this. Let me call Raphael.”
He opened his eyes and clenched his teeth. “No.”
There was a tremor in his throat, and his breath was harsher than the last. His low and strained voice was determined. She smiled—such a stubborn angel.
She put her arm around his shoulder and strained to lift him. “Can you sit?”
“No.” He pulled her to him; his hand gripped hers like a manacle. There were tremors in his fingertips; whether they were from pain or desire, she had no idea.
“Kiss me,” he said.
She couldn’t believe the strength he had. Only minutes before, he’d been weaker than a frosted flower.
He didn’t give her a chance to protest, and his lips claimed hers. His tongue thrust fiercely between her lips, smothering her doubt. His mouth ravaged her with none of the tenderness he’d shown before. This was desperate, feverish, urgent, and she felt the effects curling between her thighs, shivering through her limbs. But it wasn’t lust. She could actually feel his love for her, and it excited her. She wanted more. She wanted him pulsing inside her.
He pulled away, and disappointment gripped her, but she couldn’t be selfish. He was still in pain.
“Take it off,” he said, as he pulled on her dress with his left hand.
She couldn’t tear herself away from his hot gaze. Lord, she hoped he knew what he was doing. Making love might not work, and the hellish poison must be pumping through his system. Yet not wanting to disappoint, she gave into his command and pulled off her gown, then tossed it to the side. Cool air brushed over her, and she quivered.
“Beautiful.”
Her cheeks heated, and she wanted to look away, but instead, met his possessive gaze.
“Take my pants off, then straddle my hips.”
How could he survive this? “But you’re wounded.”
“Do it. I can’t take them off.”
His plea pushed her into action. She removed his shoes, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his trousers, trying to ignore it when he stiffened and bit back a groan. For one worried moment she thought he’d push her away, but he looked at her, promising the hunger building in his body.
This was madness, but she refused to deny her mate. She carefully tugged his pants past his hips, and her eyes widened at his erection.
“Straddle me.”
His compelling voice left her little choice. Trusting in their love, she gently lowered her shaking thighs and impaled herself on his hardened flesh. Her folds parted, taking him inside her. He caressed her breast, his fingers pinching her already budded nipple.
“Move,” he said.
She nodded and slid up and down on his shaft. Her blood was strumming through her veins; her beating heart was like a manic drum. He lifted his hips and pushed deeper into her. Every shiver, every tremor, that pumped through his ragged body found a mirror in hers. The glowing light around them burned brighter, like the North Star. She wanted to cradle him to her breasts, but she was afraid she’d hurt him.
The intensity between them escalated. She couldn’t think; all she do was feel the power rushing through here. This was love—pleasurable, fierce, and unstoppable. An overwhelming shudder of ecstasy gripped her, never seeming to end, never relenting in heat or fervor.
***
Lethal had never experienced anything like this before. Despite the pain pulsing inside him, the sheer force of his release brough
t him plunging up into her slick, wet curls. There was nothing shy or hesitant about her passion, but there was something else. A power caressed his hot body, burrowing beneath his skin and diminishing the throbbing pain in his skull. The hellish acid burning in his gut and heart stopped. The pain twisting in his lungs, cutting off his breath, melted. The agony in his shoulder slowly edged away. Muscle and skin pieced together as precisely and effectively as if Raphael had healed him, but this was coated with the gentleness of a woman’s touch.
He could move his paralyzed arm. His angel had done it. She’d healed him.
It was time for him to pleasure her into even greater heights. He placed both his hands on her large breasts, and she shuddered beneath his palms. He forced himself to sit up to suckle one breast. She cried out his name and pushed more of her flesh into his mouth. She tasted as sweet as honey, and he would never get enough of her silky skin. Every whimper sent his body into a frenzy. He needed her. She completed him.
He arched his back and flung his hips upward, surging into her greedy hips. He clasped onto her, afraid to let go. A crowning, vibrating shudder left him so entirely and immutably spent that he sank back onto the ground, his arms at his side.
Whether he moved first, cupping his hands around her ass, or she squirmed, sending more desire through him, he didn’t know. One minute, they were in the grip of amazing passion, and the next, their eyes locked. The flooding white light had subsided, and he could see her clearer. Her hair had fallen out of her bun and hung in loose ringlets over her creamy shoulders. Sweat glistened off her glowing skin. He hadn’t noticed the little mole to the right of her mouth or the slender arches of her eyebrows. Her skin was a golden tan, as if she’d flown in the sun long enough to glow. Even her breasts were the same color. Had his little cherub flown naked in the sun? He smiled. A sight he’d love to see.
He gasped. “I’ve never—”
Panting, she leaned forward and cupped his face. He inhaled her sweet breath, which ignited another wave of need.
“Neither have I,” she said. “I love you.”
